The Battling of Rivals
by ZukiYuki
Summary: High King Peter and Prince Caspian have a fast a furiously competative relationship, they are what could be called Rivals. Is it not natural that they compete in the battlefield of Love? SLASH
1. Furious Kissing's good for tears

**Prenote**- Even though it's pretty obvious, I don't own Narnia, or the characters, just this strange 'behind the scenes' take on Caspian and Peter's relationship. contains boy on boy stuff, though nothing Mature.

Ahh, ever since I re-watched the movie for Narnia Prince Caspian, I kept noticing how perfect the Two unbelievably cute boys would be for a love hate relationship. Hello, rivalry, lots of sword play, tragic moments and lingering gazes. All you really needed was the kiss and you have a classic example. So for my amusement, I've added one in ;D but thats for later, so please, R+R, and read on :]

Peter swallowed back the predatorial growl in his throat, skewering the Dark haired boy with his eyes. His chest was heaving from their breath battle, his wrist aching from the missed hit.

Lucy's cry had saved him. He looked briefly away from the Male poising a sword at his throat to acknowledge the presence of his siblings, before returning to observing the Male. A similar age, Peter tried not to feel envy as he noticed his strong muscles, the slim, strong hands which were grasping _his_ sword. Peter had lived a troubled, but less physically demanding life than the Narnian Prince posed before him. He just hoped he could out match him in wit. Caspian seemed to register just who he was, that's right princey boy, I'm a high King. check_ that _out.

Caspian felt irritation flare up as he watched a small smirk spread across the blonde boy's face. Who was he to smirk, just because he was some fancy high King? Caspian checked out his legs and slender arms. Sure he might be a pretty boy, but Caspian reckoned that with those muscles he could take out the 'High King' any day. He lowered the sword all the same, the Narnians were instantly spurred into gossip, but Caspian held pretty boy's gaze, his heart racing, from the fight and the intensity of the gaze he was receiving back. He stood up tall, taking the posture that a prince should. _High King Peter_ mimicked his straightening, showing off his lithe frame, backing his blonde hair bounce around his bright blue eyes. Sure, you might be pretty, but can you think? Caspian raised an eyebrow, challenging Peter in the relationship of being his rival. With a slight raise of the right corner of his full lips, the _High King_ gladly accepted.

* * *

He knew the attack on the Castle had been a bad Idea, he just knew. Caspian rode next to Peter as they withdrew in an unimpressive rush, Caspian could already tell soilders were going to get left behind. He Galloped confidently across the slowly closing bridge, enjoying the feeling of the wind musing his hair. He looked back across, to see Peter froze, staring at the trapped warriors. He turned to look at Caspian, and for a moment, Caspian dropped all feelings of Rivalry, and felt nothing but a need to comfort the Scared looking Male posed a few meters away from him. The look of unsolvable conflict raged behind Peter's eyes, and Caspian tried his best to give him strength with hi eyes. Peter looked back and forth once more, his eyes now wet, before making the narrow jump across the bridge. Caspian sighed in relief, brushing Peter's hand gently to try and make him feel better. Somehow though, he knew he'd be blamed for this.

Peter needed to cry, he didn't think he had any other option, but infront of all this Narnians? He sucked in breath, he'd hold on a little longer, he was confident he could manage it. Some asked what had happened. That just triggered the memories, the memory of watching his men be killed slowly one by one as he abandoned them in a hopeless situation. The tears reformed, hazing his vision. All he could see was Caspian. In a blind fury he threw accusation after accusation at he rival, forcing his voice to stay strong, though he felt himself tremble. Caspian's gorgeous face turned sour as he threw a low blow at him, but Peter didn't know what else to do, he couldn't cry here, it wasn't something a High King would do. He laughed at himself bitterly, he was letting pride get the better of him again. Lucy interrupted their argueing, as an injured dwarf dubbed DLF (dear Little Friend) was laid on the ground. Peter couldn't take the atmosphere of disapointment and death anymore. Caspian's accusations were getting to him a lot more than they should. He stormed away from the scene, feeling the tears overflow down his cheeks, cruel and to real reminders of the deaths he had allowed to happen.

Caspian watched bitterly as Peter ran away from the situation, oh no way was he letting pretty boy get away with those kind of insults with no decent punishment. He smiled darkly at the thought of himself causing pretty boy to suffer, he relished in the image of him begging at his knees. Then other desirable images came to Caspian's mind, ones which weren't appropriate for Males such as himself. But he was a prince, raised in an enviroment where he was allowed to be indulged. So naturally, he gorged himself in his imaginary fantasies, it almost felt real as he pressed himself against the hot, wet lips of a crying High King Peter. He twisted his hands up in the Blonde hair he found so captivating, watching in the torchlight as it shone in the browner roots.

"Wh-what." Moaned a confused High King from beneath Caspian's hands. At that point Caspian realised he wasn't dreaming. And with all the attitude and stubborness of a true king, he decided he didn't care.

Confused, Peter blinked up to the gorgeous brown eyes of Caspian, relishing at the wet damp that had been wiped across his lips. The Prince's hands were so much stronger than Peter had imagined, despite the fact that he'd predicted Caspian to have strength it seemed he'd underestimated as he felt strong, dominated fingers curl into his hair. The natural spark of rivalry resonated with in him, no way was he going to let Caspian out play him on a battlefield he'd felt was unknown. Sure he'd kissed a few girls before, held their hands, but that was nothing compared to the wild confusion he'd felt as Caspian had joined their lips. The need to fight back had never been this aggressive either. Locking his slender fingers into Caspian's dark curls, he felt a wild, animal smile spread across his lips as he joined the hunt they both were competing in, the duel to make the other one crack. To what extent he was willing to go to Peter was unsure, all he knew was that now, he, the High King of Narnia, was going to win.

Caspian had never felt so turned on as he watched a sexy, alluring smile spread across pretty boy's face, practically egging him on. Then the Blonde's mouth was raggedly tugging on his lower lip, his sharp teeth playing gently with the flesh. Oh, so the High King was challenging him to a duel on such a dangerous battlefield? Caspian felt a low growl form in his throat as he readily accepted, ducking his head and burning bottom lip out of Peter's aim, placing his lips instead on the base of the High King's pale neck. At first he lay only gentle kisses as he worked his way up Peter's neck, but as the groaning from Peter grew louder, he started to ravenge the soft pale flesh with more vigor, leaving small pink marks where his lips had been. Caspian smirked at each one, he'd been the first one to lay marks. It was a look of victory that shone in his eyes as he came up to greet Peter's, a triumphant smirk spread happily across his face.

Peter felt a rush of heat going to his neck, small pricks of pain burned from where Caspian nipped his skin, and with each one Peter felt himself coming onto Caspian harder. Caspian's look of satisfaction drove him to go further, but he remembered the crowds who would be outside, he remembered his place, High King Peter, and knew that now, in a time of grieving, was the worst time to be playing around with the gorgeous, smiling boy who had just set his skin on fire. He might of lost in the furious kissing battle but he was going to win at maturity. He pulled himself off of Caspian (suddenly realising he'd collapsed like a petty maiden in the strong Male's arms) and cleared his throat, hoping the furious heat in his cheeks would subside. He started to walk off to the battle room, but turned round to lay one more meaningful kiss on Caspian, just so he knew that he was showing him up with his maturity. He flashed a smirk at the taller boy, then walked off to go an get some air in a side chamber, rubbing at his devoured skin. Another time Caspian, and he was definetly going to win.


	2. The Gentle Exploration

Author's Note: May I please prewarn you quotes used won't be exactly, or perhaps even close to those of the movie. I begin differentiating from the plot here, but it doesn't excuse my lack of quote memorisation. For the Black dwarf's speech especially, please forgive me.

Caspian was beginning to wonder if he was bipolar, after the intense exhilaration he'd felt from jumping the High King (He could just imagine his professor asking, 'so Caspian, what did you do today?', 'Oh, I just jumped and had a battle of sexual tension with the High King of Narnia.') he felt a crushing depression, mostly fuelled by the aforementioned High King's prolonged smirk. So, they were competing in maturity now? Resisting the urge to stalk after pretty boy and force the smirk off of his face, Caspian maturely turned on his heel and walked away. Although his walk was more of a bad tempered stalk, and his face was undoubtedly pouting.

He began down the corridor to the room housing the broken stone table, to wrapped up in his thoughts to notice as he nearly knocked over the grumpy dwarf. He was forced out of his fantasies about avenging Peter in a rather improper manner when he felt someone tug on his arm. It was the short dwarf, or were all dwarves that short?

"There's someone who can help you." A gruff voice about three feet below Caspian whispered. Someone the dwarf knew could help him deal with the temperamental High King? And perhaps revert his sexual preference back to women? But the dwarf went on to feed him stories of himself regaining the kingdom, and he admitted he was mildly distracted from his Peter issues, regaining anger from the realisation that his uncle had killed his father.

"You want you're kingdom back, we can get it for you, and what we want, you can get for us." The dwarf leered (which was very impressive for someone so short). Caspian didn't know why he did it, he just did. He found himself following after the stunted magical creature with an undoubted determination; it was probably because he found the situation very good at distracting himself from a certain smirk which had been replaying In his head for the last five minutes. He swaggered into the Chamber confidently; he was going to regain the kingdom without the High King's help. Caspian One, Peter Zero.

Peter inhaled the fresh air readily, it calmed down his overly tensed muscles and cleared his sore throat, growling obviously wasn't good for it. He leant against a pillar, looking up at the brief gaps in the ceiling that showed the night sky. Was it the same sky as back home? He remembered thinking the same thoughts last time they'd come here. But this time, Peter didn't feel the need to return home so badly. There was so much here he had to do, so many people that were relying on him. And one certain person who was undeniably becoming increasingly important to him.

"Peter!" The scream broke him out of his happy little philosophical debate. He looked over to see a panicked Lucy gasping for breath, he freckled cheeks a violent shade of red and glistening with sweat.

"Caspian, in the chamber!" She gasped, nearly falling over as Peter flew past her.

Caspian felt like he was on the verge of tears as he held up a furiously trembling hand, the painful red gash across it dripping with his blood. The Blood of a son of Adam. The white witch's cold, cruel face was looking down on him, every piece of sense and logic in his body was furiously fighting to get away, his head was screaming at him to turn and run. But there was that sneaky want in the back of his head, the devil's temptation was calling him to just try, just to see what would happen. It was his chance to gain ultimate power, he'd regain his kingdom with a force that had kept even Aslan at bay for 100 years. He stretched a few millimetres higher, his fingers grasping desperately for the long, pale ones that were urging him on. The blood continued to drip from his hand.

"Caspian!" Came a yell from a voice that set his mind on fire. Distracted, he twisted his head an inch to look for Peter, who he spotted battling furiously, trying to reach him. His natural reaction was a mixture of relief and joy, Peter had come to save him! But there was that side which the witch had control over, turning his emotions into a bitter resentment, oh, so the High King was coming to take his glory. He began to reach again for the white palm just a few centimetres in front of him, but Peter was getting closer at a faster pace than he could fight his natural instincts. He was knocked out of the circle with a force he didn't know Pretty boy was capable of.

Peter grinned triumphantly, he had nobly saved Caspian from the clutches of evil, his honour had been restored upon him. Plus Caspian was okay, which he suppose mattered quite a bit to. But a chilling sensation was winding itself up his limbs, and he felt himself become frozen to the spot, a cold wind brushing his neck as he recognised the voice which called his name in a hiss. The dagger was in his hand without his acknowledgement of it, the blood was on his hand before he even began to feel the pain which should have accompanied the cut. The hateful eyes that were trapped behind the sheet of ice had transfixed his against his will, and every desire he'd ever felt was brought forth as he felt himself drawing closer and closer with his blood cloaked hand to the ghostly embodiment, every second he felt himself forgetting more and more of his morals, his knowledge of what he was doing was wrong felt as if it was being proved wrong simply by time. His fingertips brushed the witch's.

Shattering. Caspian felt a resonating shock run through out his body as the ear splitting sound of ice shattering rang out in the chamber, and the wall of solid ice cascaded down to the floor, the ghostly witch disappearing with it. The slight figure of Edmund, pretty boy's younger and not so pretty sibling, was posed very heroically, his sword withdrawn from the ice sheet.

"I know, you had it." He muttered to his brother as he walked off, taking no glory from the situation. Caspian could see Peter collapsed on the ground, trembling. Vulnerable. Caspian felt a highly inappropriate smile play on his lips at the opportunity glowed temptingly. He knew that perhaps the timing was wrong, but he was most certainly not wrong to recognise that now, Peter was at his weakest. Everyone else in the room had left, either to spread the word or to recover from the shock away from the battle scene. Caspian, being a spoilt prince, couldn't resist.

Peter could feel himself shaking, he knew it wasn't very High King like, but the sudden force and loss of emotion had left his senses and brain fried. Yet still surprise managed to dimly flicker as his rival offered him his hand to pull him up off of the floor. Entwining his fingers in the strong ones of the prince, Peter allowed himself the shame of being helped up by the Prince. He pulled his hand to try and distance himself from the smug looking olive skinned boy, but his hand was not released. Very much against his will, he was dragged by the hand across the chamber, down one of the minor corridors that lead off from it, and forced into a small opening which was depicting the creatures that had been at the ritual of killing Aslan at the stone table. And then, as he stood alone in a dark cave with a precariously smirking prince, he realised just how much danger he was in.

Caspian loved the look of shocked realisation that took pretty boy's face as he realised just what kind of situation he was in. Caspian pulled Peter into him, breaking the boy's posture in on tug, and then crushing all resistance as he tightly locked his arms around his back. He looked down at the tired and frightened eyes of his ranking superior, and felt thrills go up his spine as he came to the terms that he had caused this, he had broken the High King. Gently, he pressed his lips against the side of the High king's, going slowly so as not to break his new toy. He paused to fiddle with the blonde hair of his rival, gently tilting the boy's head back so he'd have the advantage. Usually, he'd of expected more of a struggle, more defiance and irritation from the High King at being manipulated, but the slender back and arms that were weakly holding onto him had no strength left in them. Feeling extremely smug, Caspian allowed himself to pull at Peter's lips, testing him for reactions and loving as each one turned out to be as weak as the last.

Peter could tell Caspian wanted a battle, he was openly teasing him with his slow yet dominating movements, but Peter couldn't find the will to resist as he felt a gentle and almost welcome pull on his lips. Instead, he let Caspian do the work, letting his lips part easily as Caspian curiously poked them with his tongue. Each time he showed weakness, he could visibly measure the joyful reaction in his rival, but instead of sending him into a competitive rage, he just smiled at the thought of his submissiveness amusing the Male so much. Perhaps, he's won, in the sense that Caspian was so fixated on him. Just being able to ellicitate those kinds of reactions from the Male made him feel as if he'd won in _something_. Just what he was winning though, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was something as cheesy as being Caspian's heart. In that moment of gently sweetness, he wasn't sure he cared.

Caspian felt Positively alive, compared to the dead weight of his little High King. He'd already dominated his mouth, meeting almost no resistance as Kingy's biggest motion had been to pull gently back on his lips, as if just to prove that he was paying attention, to depict his interest. Enjoying the sweet sensation of their mouth's movement to much to use his mouth to explore further, Caspian turned to his hands and began to use them to investigate his rival futher than his eyes had allowed him. The white shirt and loosely fitting metal plate were easy to navigate under, and Caspian felt a small electric shock as he touched the forgiving skin of Peter's back, the feeling of fragility raged even stronger, and Caspian's sense of power over his superior grew even stronger as he carefully ran his index finger over the line on the boy's spine, feeling the defined bobble of each segment of his spine. The Male in his arms made a small whimpering noise as his warm fingers pushed on the sensitive area below Peter's cool neck.

Peter could feel the flames scorching his back, and relished in the strength of their being, since the rush with the witch his emotions had felt dulled and subdued, but the heat that had locked onto his back was as strong as anything he'd ever felt. Regaining some small ounce of strength, Peter showed off his new confidence by playfully biting Caspian's lower lip. The tender exploration which had been developing was sparked off into an excitement, and Caspian's fingers became rougher as they traced the indents around his collarbone, as they pressed against the sharp line of his shoulders.

Then they heard the voices.

Both boys looked up with a startled expression as they heard people beginning to come into the chamber outside their little corridor. Pulling himself off of Peter, Caspian straightened himself up and ran a hand through his hair to regain his sense, then smirked at the startled boy in front of him, who was a definite shade of pink.

"Well, that was fun." Caspian whispered, tucking Peter's shirt back in for him, and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. Walking out of the chamber, trying to look troubled and worried (which wasn't _too_ hard considering he was about to go to war against his father's murderer) Caspian allowed himself a brief smile as he pointed out to himself that he was the one leaving first this time. It was undoubtly a victory. But some part of him, the lust and excitement which had been triggered, seemed to of been left back in the chamber with the confused Blonde boy. Fascinating.


End file.
